Last Dance at the End of the World

by Jacqueline Druga

  Seeing her, I inwardly fought the knowledge that what happened to her was going to happen to everyone that got the vaccine.

  I talked to my children, asked them questions, hoping not to see signs it had hit them as well.

  But what were the signs? How early were the warnings? Not very. Everything I read, it just happened so fast.

  I didn’t lock the bedroom door, I hated doing that. Instead, I double bolted the apartment door and placed a chair before it with pots and pans. An alarm of sorts should she try to get out.

  The kids had to eat, and I had to figure out what to make them.

  Beau sat at the kitchen table, pen in hand. He was writing or drawing something, I wasn’t really sure what and didn’t look. I patted him on the back in a gentle way, then opened the freezer to see what we had in there.

  When I reached for the handle, I saw it.

  The business card I was given that day at Reilly’s. I don’t know why I didn’t think about it, that day was a blur that seemed to start it all. Before examining the freezer, I slipped the card from under the magnet.

  “Be right back Beau, I have to make a call.” I made my way down the hall and peeked in on Daisy in the playroom.

  “Hi Daddy did you take the California Bologns out of the freezer?” She looked up from her dolls.

  “I will, Daddy needs to make a call first. Stay in here.”

  “Okay.”

  I pulled out my phone, I really didn’t expect him to answer. After all, not only was he a doctor, but I was a completely unknown number to him. I thought in my head what I’d say to his voice mail and once I knew, I dialed the number and headed to the living room... To my surprise, he answered.

  “This is Doctor Yee.”

  “Oh my gosh, I was not expecting you to answer at all.”

  “You called. What did you expect?” he asked.

  “A voicemail.”

  “You got me. What can I help you with sir?” he asked.

  “I’m a little rattled, I wasn’t expecting to talk to you yet.”

  “Why don’t you just say what you were gonna say on the voicemail,” he said.

  “Okay.” I cleared my throat. “Hey, Doctor Yee. This is Travis Grady. We met at a restaurant a few days back where George dipped his arm in grease. Anyhow …”

  “Stop,” Doctor Yee said. ‘I remember you well. You don’t forget people you meet under such extenuating circumstances. What’s up, Travis?”

  “I don’t know how it is out your way, Doc, but out here, it’s getting bad.”

  “With the reaction.”

  “To the vaccine, yes,” I replied.

  “It’s bad everywhere Travis. Every day millions are falling to this.”

  “That just seems so, I don’t know, farfetched doesn’t it?” I asked.

  “I wish it was farfetched, but it’s happening.”

  “The reason I called is, you mentioned this Eastern medicine. My wife … my wife is …”

  “One of The Lost. That’s what I call them. Lost. It’s called the Lost Effect. I’m sorry to hear that. You have children, right? How are they.”

  “Good so far, thank God.”

  “You?” he asked.

  “I’m fine. Nothing is happening to me. Like you I didn’t get the vaccine, in fact, I’m one of the Great Eight, as they called us.”

  “Wow, that’s pretty big. So like me, you’re destined to be witness to it all going down.”

  “I hate it. And I feel guilty,” I said. “I mean I was part of it.”

  “You can’t look at it that way, Travis. That was a couple years ago. How many people got real time with loved ones they would have lost?”

  “Now everyone is gonna lose. Including me. My wife.”

  “I am really sorry. How far is she?” he asked.

  “It’s pretty bad. I mean a few days ago she was slipping, now she doesn’t know us and …” I dropped my voice to a whisper. “She can’t even go to the bathroom on her own. Man, if she was aware it would kill her. Is there anything we can do?”

  “Unfortunately, you can not undo the damage,” he said. “Remember when the vaccine was first given to Alzheimer’s and other dementia sufferers. Some damage was too far progressed, and some it just kinda halted the damage done. No one returned to normal because the brain just doesn’t heal like that.”

  “But if we found something to stop it, she wouldn’t digress?” I asked.

  “I can’t say, Travis.”

  “I’m not a scientist, but what if we give them the vaccine again. Like you said it halted the damage …”

  “Travis,” he stopped me. “To me that’s a brilliant idea and when a friend and fellow colleague said the same thing two days ago, I said go for it. His wife, and others he knew that showed symptoms of the Lost Effect, he got them to take the vaccine. We all thought, heck, what is there to lose?”

  “And?” I asked.

  “And we found out what there was to lose. Days.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Precious days. One more day to say I love you, to see them, to hear them. Those were gone. The vaccine jet streamed it to the final stage.”

  “Which is?”

  “The brain forgets how to walk, talk, swallow and … eventually breathe.”

  “What if we try it again,” I suggested.

  “You can try. Find the town doctor, try, but be prepared to lose her quickly.”

  I sighed out heavily, I know he heard it.

  “Look, I understand what you’re going through. You don’t want to give up, you want to try everything. If I had a wife and kids, I’d be the same way. No one is telling you to stop trying.”

  “What is everyone doing for The Lost there?” I asked.

  “Doing our best to make them comfortable and take care of them.”

  “Can I call you if I have questions?” I asked. “I mean, you can tell me no. I can text …”

  “Call me anytime.”

  “One more question, Doc. Will my wife hit that last phase where it all just stops?”

  “I’m sorry to say,” he replied. “Everyone does.”

  I thanked him again, promising to call him and vice versa, then I hung up, checked on Daisy again and went back to the kitchen.

  “Okay.” I grabbed the freezer door. “Sorry we couldn’t go to the store. Let’s see what we have. Daisy wants that California Bologns, I think this is chicken.” I grabbed a pack of meat. “Not sure. What do you think, Bud? What are you in the mood for?” I glanced over at Beau and his hand moved frantically on the paper. “Man, you are working hard on something.” I stepped to the table. “What are you ….”

  Beau never stopped. His hand went back and forth, up and down on that paper like a mad sketch artist. He kept going, staring down, not listening, not responding. If his reaction didn’t crush me and tell me enough, the paper did. My son wasn’t drawing anything but scratches, scribbles and lines.

  NINE – DUTY

  The shed door, clasp latch I picked up at the hardware store came in a set of two, and I never thought I would have to use both in my own home.

  The metal loop of the padlock rested on my index finger and I stared at it, tapping the lock, causing a slight swing as I wallowed in my own self-pity and grief on my living room sofa.

  I was blindsided by Beau. No other signs, I didn’t see it coming at all. But then I had to think, when was the last time I heard him speak? Did he speak to me at all when I left with Daisy for our short trip to the store?

  While he sat at that table drawing savagely, I called his name, sat next to him, begged for his attention, it went on for ten minutes. Even when his pencil shredded the paper and he was drawing on the surface of the table ... nothing.

  Then finally, he just stopped, slowly looked at me and said, “I’m going to be late for school.”

  I told him he wasn’t and he argued with me until he stopped and he went to his room.

  I locked his windows, not his door.

 
There was no doctor to call, no help to be given, at least none that I knew of, and I had searched. I watched the news, went on line, social media, no where did it say ‘seek medical attention’. In fact, the major news network had only recently started stating what some experts were saying to do.

  “It’s difficult when multiple members of families are being lost to this,” the newswoman said. “Is there anything they can do?”

  I saw the so called expert come on, a man I had seen many times over the past few days, there wasn’t much more or anything different I thought could come from his mouth.

  He was encouraging people not to break the delusion. Because he was seeing violent reactions to being contradicted.

  I stood in the middle of his ‘we all have to work together, help each other’ speech and walked to the window.

  Work together? Help each other? How? My family had me, but what about the millions of families that would all fall to The Lost category together? Who would help them?

  I looked out the window to the main street. It had snowed again, but there were no tire tracks, no plow marks. In fact, it was hard to see, a thick smoke lingered in the air. Not only did the street lights give them a weird lighting effect, there was an orange hue to things.

  That could only mean one thing. A fire. It was close, but I hadn’t heard any sirens. It hit me fires could be something that would happen a lot more. The inability of The Lost to know what they were doing.

  I felt so defeated and devastated, my gut held on to this sinking feeling and I was waiting for the next ax to drop, shoe to fall, family member to be lost.

  My daughter. She was next.

  I hadn’t heard from my sister or brother-in-law, even though I reached out to them three times.

  I couldn’t even leave my family to go check on them.

  “If you’re just joining us,” the newswoman said. “Richard Collins ….”

  Hearing Richard’s name drew my attention from that window.

  Instantly I thought, maybe he came up with a solution, I was hopeful, and then I heard the newswoman.

  “The famed epidemiologist that created the Alzheimer vaccine, has died.”

  “What?” I blasted the television.

  “The doctor who has been blamed for everything that is happening, took his own life this afternoon in his Baltimore home. His wife released a statement stating, ‘He was only trying to help the world and did not take his life because of recent events, but rather because he wanted to go out on his own terms knowing what he loved and who he loved.’ Doctor Collins was exhibiting signs of The Lost. There was great …”

  I did and didn’t want to hear more, but the newswoman gave me no choice. She tilted her head as if someone were talking to her and said nothing.

  The blank stare, the instant lost expression. Her lips moving in a hopeless silent stutter. It was like that on camera for the world to see. Then a crew member rushed forward and the screen went to color bars and a mid-pitched tone.

  I grabbed the remote to turn it off and the knock at my door startled me.

  It was late, but I kind of knew who it was. I carefully moved my chair with the pots and unlocked the door.

  “Hey, Travis,” Chief Fisher said. “Sorry for being so late. I saw the light on.”

  “It’s fine, come on in.” I opened the door wider for him.

  When he stepped inside, he looked down at the pots and pans. “Cooking in the hall.”

  “It’s my alarm system. If the door opens, I’ll hear.”

  “That’s a good idea. I have an old bell at the station, if you want.”

  “I may take you up on it.”

  “How is she?” he asked.

  “They,” I corrected.

  “Oh, Travis, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, my boy … he well, he went into the zone pretty fast.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Sleeping.”

  “You’re lucky,” the Chief said. “A lot of people can’t get family members to sleep.”

  “I cheated. I gave them nighttime cough medicine. Maybe it’s not right, but I can’t care for them if I don’t rest.”

  Chief Fisher sighed out, lowering his head and lifting his eyes to me.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Travis, it’s been a hell of a night. Seven car crashes, two fires. In the course of one day, we went from forty people with this to half the town.”

  “How? How is it happening so fast?”

  Chief Fisher shrugged. “I don’t know. My guess is the order they got the vaccination. Just a guess. But me and the others like us, we’re trying, and I got an automated call, apparently state is setting something up. Fortunately, they are using those who didn’t get the virus, so it will get to us.”

  “What?”

  “Help, I guess, who knows? But, Travis, we need help. I know you are here with your family, but there are so many out there. They can’t take care of themselves, not eating, wandering, they’re a danger. They keep getting into cars and …”

  “I hear you,” I said. “I do. I hear you. I can’t leave my family to take care of strangers.”

  “I understand. Just thought I’d try,” Chief Fisher said. “None of us want to, you know. We all have family elsewhere that we want to get to, but we’re here. Will you think about it?”

  “Chief, I …”

  “You have friends in this town, what about them?” the Chief pressed.

  “I just …” I looked over my shoulder.

  “Travis, how about this …” Chief Fisher paused in the door. “What would you want someone to do for your family? What if you weren’t here? What would happen to them if someone didn’t sacrifice to help? That’s all I’m gonna say. Have a good night.” He nodded, walked out the door and closed it.

  As much as I wanted to help others, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. My family needed me.

  TEN – NO DIRECTION

  February 20

  The lights were still on, we had power and that was a blessing. Considering half the town was lost, it begged to question, who was manning the power stations? Eventually it would stop, I hoped at least the weather wasn’t as cold or snowy. We had been pounded by snow.

  I couldn’t remember the last time that happened.

  I woke up on the couch wanting things to be normal again. It would have been eerily quiet had it not been for the music coming from Daisy’s room. That was the only bright spot when reality smacked me in the face when I woke up. She played music in her room all the time. Whether it was some silly children’s song or something completely left field, she went into her room and listened.

  When we remodeled our building, we had created a two story apartment, but more so the bedrooms on the upper floor were loft style, that was where the kids were.

  The second floor could be seen from the living room. The high railings we placed around the hallway. I went up to check and peeked in on Daisy, she was twirling around, still in her pajamas. That was good, I needed her to stay there in her safe world. Not see what else was going on.

  I hadn’t put the lock on Beau’s door and it scared me when I didn’t see him, until I realized he was the one in the bathroom.

  “Hey, Bud, you okay?” I asked, knocking on the bathroom door.

  “Just getting ready for school,” he replied.

  He sounded like himself, and that was a good thing.

  “You don’t have school today,” I told him.

  “I have school.”

  “No, Bud, it’s a snow day. I’m gonna go help your mom then I’ll get breakfast.”

  I really needed some coffee and put a pot on, then listened to the door of my bedroom to see if I heard Maranda.

  She was quiet, probably still asleep. Beau was taking a while in the bathroom and I checked on him again before the pot had even brewed.

  He was fine, still claiming to be getting ready for school, so I poured a cup, took a few sips and grabbed some juice for Maranda.

 
; It took me a second to compose myself, hating myself for locking her in like a prisoner. I set the orange juice on the floor by the door while I undid the lock.

  The bed was slightly messed up, but I suspected she slept in the chair.

  When I walked in she stared out the window. I set the juice on the dresser.

  “It snowing,” she said, no emotion, no feeling.

  “A lot. Again.” I walked to the window and took her arm, I suspected as I had for the last couple mornings, I’d have to help her to the bathroom. She didn’t argue, only questioning once if she needed to go.

  I assured her she did, aided in what I could then led her back to the bedroom.

  “Sit down, I’ll be right back.” I returned to the bathroom and while the water ran in a cycle to get warm, I dampened her tooth brush, placed some paste on it, and filled a glass. I took that out, setting it on the night stand, then returned to put soap on a wash cloth and grab a towel.

  She stared at me while I washed her face and neck, then her hands.

  “Is my husband coming?” she asked.

  I felt my heart sink to my stomach. “Yeah, he is. He loves you. You know that right?”

  “Does he?”

  “He does.”

  “Who are you?”

  “A friend.” When I finished giving her a quick wash, I handed her the toothbrush. Wrapping my fingers around hers, I brought it to her mouth and initiated the motion. Once I saw she had it, I took the towels back to the bathroom and grabbed the waste paper basket. “Here you go.” I removed the toothbrush from her hand. “Spit.”

  It took a second, staring from me to the can. I had to mock show her. When she leaned her over the basket, I heard it. A frightening sound, the clanking of pots and pans.

  My homemade door alarm.

  “Shit.” I stepped back and she grabbed me wrist.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I have to go. I’ll be right back.”

  “No don’t go.” Her fingers locked tightly into my skin, exhibiting strength that I didn’t know she had. Her face was frightened, almost matching the feel of panic I had boiling in me. I peeled her fingers from my arm, and raced out the bedroom door.

  The sound pots and pans falling could only mean one thing.